


Like Mother Like Son

by t0talcha0s



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Pirates, Slavery, Third Person POV, but that's clearly stated with a -, jumps locations, this is a distraction from working on things I'm supposed to be writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a story of beauty, of hope, of strength, and most importantly, it is a story of rage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Mother Like Son

The chains she bears are heavy, yet her head is held defiantly high, her steps ring with a revolutionary grace, her wrists ache but she shall always raise her fists to fight. Her steps resound full on the planks of the ship she’s led onto, the aggression with which she’s shoved foreword has her breath coming deeply from her nose, they know not who they cross. Footsteps thunder across the deck, and she flicks her eyes to look at the approaching figure. A sneer stretches across the pirate’s face. The shackled woman straightens her back, tilts her chin up, and squares her shoulders. 

"Well then," she stretches out the 'e' as if she has reason to be smug, if the woman were unbound she would no doubt tear into her like she had something to gain, she scolds herself for the thought. "Who's this?" The pirate's sword is lifted to her shoulder, sneer changing into a smirk. "A pretty little thing aren't you, far too pretty for chains." The woman presents her chained wrists as if that were a promise to set her free. The pirate chuckles, shaking her head. "What's your name?" 

"Dolorosa." She says it curtly and the name holds an underlying tension to dismantle not just governments, but entire worlds. 

"A lovely jadeblood hm Rosa? What's someone like you doing on a ship like this?" She keeps her lips pursed upon the story, it is not this woman's to know. "I asked you a question." She says tapping the sword on her own shoulder as if as a warning. 

"My story is unimportant." 

"For someone with a such a pretty voice you don't speak nearly enough to let it be heard." There's a hint of truth under the heavy taunting tone. "I'll draw it out of you somehow. What kind of story could you tell?"

-

The Dolorosa was asked the same question a while back, by a young man she could find much of her son in. She smoothed down his hair as they were carried away to be sold like cattle. 

"It is not a story of triumph." She said with a frown, nimble hands stroking softly at the man's curls, giving him the comfort only a mother can provide. "It is a story of beauty, of hope, of strength, and most importantly, it is a story of rage." The man insisted his curiosity still. "There was a gift that was thrust upon me, the gift of light and truth and freedom, that I was given to nurture. I took him into my arms and he grew, away from the world, in only the goodness that was enough for him. I provided for him every means to become what I knew he could, I did things no one should have to do to keep my light alive, but his life was worth more then others. So others feared that, and him. He grew in love and hope and blood and amazement. He was kind and gentle and soft and loving, and I could not have hoped for a better child. Until I was given two more." Dolorosa sighed, a smile gracing ageless features. "Both powerful, full of grace, one so chock full of love it overflowed to my hope and she adored him infinitely. Theirs was a love to put any story of fame to shame. The other," she shook her head a little. "Knew not his own beauty. I fear he is back where we had found him, where we are now found, for his gift is his torture, and they have done nothing but enslave and kill all that is beauteous and good in him. His end comes later in the story though." 

-

She is snapped out of her memory when a hand comes to rest beneath her chin, tilting her head left and right as the pirate inspects her. 

"Marquise Spinneret Mindfang." She says with a smirk to intimidate men. Dolorosa hardly blinks, keeping the sneer off her face, but her lip curling. "You, however, may call me mistress." She would never under usual circumstances, but she holds back the malice in her voice, and says without wavering,

"Of course mistress." 

"It's funny, usually most slaves are cowering in fear by now. What makes you so fearless Dolorosa?"

"I have nothing left to lose." 

-

"With my three children, we began showing to the world the work, the message I knew they were destined to share. My son was a speaker like no other, his words linger, even now, throughout the cosmos. He preached to all our stance of love and of freedom. Many were touched by our story." She began, by habit, to slowly braid the man's hair like she did her daughters while telling stories, he didn't bother pushing her away. "My daughter transcribed the stories to pass along to followers, my son preached, and the other son protected us all. However, my son, with his mutant blood, and his lack of sign was taken by her royal empress. Before myself, and his love, and his friend he was brutally executed." Her hands jittered, clenching and unclenching into fists. "And he spoke, most eloquently in this situation, about their wrongdoings, and hey projected, ever ringing into the years, the one thing he inherited from me. Even today, even now, the stars tremble with my good sons rage." 

"And what about the others?" 

"My other son was sold into the servitude from which he first escaped, and my daughter forced into a solitude that consumed her, that did not befit her." 

"And you are to be sold? Shall you spread his message still?" 

"I am, now, to spread our rage." 

-

"Nothing to lose?" The pirate cackles. "Perhaps you think that now, but once your cushy life is taken away, and you get used to the hard times of my shi-" 

"I have had everything I have ever adored brutally ripped from my grasp." The shackled woman interrupts. "I have seen everyone I have ever loved tortured and broken. I have faced every trial this world could hope to throw at me and I have faced it all and I have survived. Your punishments and your petty pathetic trials shall be nothing to me. For I have lived and died eternally and nothing you shall ever hope to do shall match the force and ferocity of the hatred, of the rage I am burdened with. So try, try as you may mistress," she spat the word. "You can never break me, you can never even cause me to bend. For I truly, completely have nothing left to be taken from me. Nothing but my rage." 

The pirate laughs. 

"I cannot wait to begin trying."

**Author's Note:**

> Cool! Another fanfiction of mine that's not centered around Dirk. I have a deep rooted obsession for the Dolorosa though so that's no surprise.   
> Hmu on tumblr at Barefootcosplayer


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